


My Broken Bow

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-26
Updated: 2006-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8066851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: The Captain's musings about his Senior Officers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

My broken Bow.

1.1 (Vulcan Nuisance)

Captainâ€™s Star Log Supplemental  
But itâ€™s the Vulcan that drives me mental.  
Always dismissive and condescending,  
Itâ€™s a shame this mission is never-ending

Travis takes control of my fatherâ€™s design  
But control of the ship isnâ€™t even mine.  
A warp five engine may give us a boost  
But itâ€™s Tâ€™Pol that rules the roost.

Eighty hours to Qo'nos I can just endure  
But she claims I smell like a bag of manure.  
Never-ending logic and ears to match  
Yet my Chief Engineer finds her a catch.

The Suliban came to take away Klaang.  
Wait, come back, you took the wrong man!  
Iâ€™ll be your prisoner, take me away from this bore,  
Earth isnâ€™t ready for a Temporal Cold War

1.2 (Eccentric Physician)

I selected a Doctor from the medical exchange.  
As good as they come though he seemed a bit strange.  
With an unceasing plethora of constant optimism  
His never-ending smile has been bent through a prism.

Now Iâ€™m not sure of what to do.  
Heâ€™s turned my sickbay into an alien zoo.  
Decorated with worms, leeches and bats,  
All known species except Dataâ€™s cat.

He came with an array of medical degrees,  
From having a filling to grazing your knees.  
From modern equipment to surgical knives,  
Useful tools when having three wives.

He likes to explore humans under great stress.  
I think Iâ€™ll stay clear when Iâ€™m a bit of a mess  
One thing Iâ€™ll say he likes his food.  
Its no wonder heâ€™s in a good mood.

1.3 (Charles Trip Tucker the Nerd)

I didnâ€™t have trouble finding good engineers.  
I picked Trip Tucker. Iâ€™ve known him for years.  
He still hasnâ€™t painted the scratch on the hull,  
But at least he keeps the anti-matter pods full.

I donâ€™t mind him showing Tuesday night flicks,  
But I wish heâ€™d give up taking thousands of pics.  
Everywhere we go, its one shot after another.  
If he doesnâ€™t quit soon Iâ€™ll write to his mother.

Heâ€™s uncomfortable with aliens, a headache of mine.  
But never gets scared watching films of Frankenstein.  
At least he keeps my fatherâ€™s engine alive  
And one day we might reach a warp factor of five!

Donâ€™t try to tell me heâ€™s patient and mild.  
Next youâ€™ll be telling me heâ€™s heavy with child.  
At least he gives the damn Vulcan some strife.  
That just about makes up for saving his life.

 

1.4 (Travel with Travis)

At least my helmsman knows what heâ€™s doing.  
A travel so smooth to stop Reed from spewing.  
He sits at the helm and with no end in sight  
He steers my ship at speeds faster than light.

He does what heâ€™s told, frequently I guess.  
A regular for breakfast in the Captainâ€™s mess.  
An asset to Starfleet, at ease with the con,  
No need to ask questions, its thrusters full on.

Born on the Horizon, far away from Earth,  
An unusual place for someone to give birth.  
Enjoying a life, travelling through space,  
Piloting a ship with joy on his face

Boldly going where no man has gone,  
There can only be Travis sat at the Con.  
One other thing I forgot to mention,  
Did I tell you heâ€™s my favourite Ensign?

 

 

1.5 (Malcolmâ€™s Mission of Destruction)

It wouldnâ€™t be Enterprise without being fired upon,  
So you need to fight back with a â€˜bloody goodâ€™ gun.  
Firing phasers port, starboard and aft,  
Launching torpedoes like something daft.

Suliban shooting at us on Rigel Ten.  
Careful Malcom, you nearly hit my Big Ben.  
Grab hold of something, even your teddy.  
It doesnâ€™t take much, his finger's at the ready.

Issued a government health warning when he was born.  
Too bad if youâ€™re Klingon, watch out Michael Dorn.  
Whoever you meet, you send them back in a hearse,  
Destroying populations like sex in reverse.

Testing his torpedoes like a toy gun,  
Careful Malcolm, you might injure someone.  
So go and sit down with your bangers and gravy.  
Its just too bad you didnâ€™t join the navy.

 

1.6 (Hailing Hoshi)

How could I speak Klingon, Suliban or Braille?  
If you need something translated give Hoshi a hail.  
My universal translator who operates the com,  
Sending text messages like something gone wrong.

She speaks forty languages without any flaw.  
I donâ€™t know how anyone could learn any more.  
Sheâ€™s not very confident, that comes as no myth.  
She speaks a new language when she encounters a stiff (dead body).

She can talk to my doctor in perfect Denobula,  
But thereâ€™s no breaking through her wretched claustrophobia.  
Put her in an E.V. suit and sheâ€™ll start to complain,  
More than the British when it pours down with rain.

Sheâ€™ll injure Tâ€™Pol with words that will bruise -  
Words in the dictionary that Iâ€™d never use.  
So if youâ€™re looking for a hands-on communicator,  
Get yourself Hoshi - not a Universal Translator!

 

1.7 (Archer's Provincial Nature)

Personal Log Supplemental, Sub Commander Tâ€™Pol.  
Archer gets on my chest more than Ambassador Soval.  
His illogical nature proves to be more than absurd,  
And Porthos, his canine, smells like â€˜Lemon Curdâ€™.

He blames all known Vulcans for restraining warp five  
With a second-rate warp engine, itâ€™s kept him alive.  
The high command is certain his mission will fail,  
With a ship that is slower than second class mail.

But I am a Vulcan and I am always mistaken.  
He hasnâ€™t lost Klaang, the buggerâ€™s been taken.  
With enhanced genetics the Suliban have been toying.  
Thus genetically engineered to be damned annoying.

So now weâ€™ve set course for a remote Rigel Ten  
With a Denobulan, a coward, and four simple men,  
To search for a Klingon thatâ€™s not even there.  
I need a sense of humour, not lousy hair!  
_________________


End file.
